


The Spice of Life

by flaming_muse



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Chirping, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: Jack's apartment, Jack's shoes, and Jack's boyfriend, or Bitty goes down to Providence to visit one weekend, and Jack welcomes him home.





	The Spice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around 3.06 ("PB&J") in canon, so before the boys tell anyone about their relationship.
> 
> Huge thanks to lizinprogress for kindly reading a mess of a draft and for even more kindly letting me blather on at her about my love of these fictional hockey boys! <3

Awkwardly balancing two cardboard shipping boxes on his hip while trying to keep the strap of his overnight bag on his shoulder, Bitty struggled to fit his key in the lock of Jack’s apartment door. He knew he could just knock, but Jack had given him a key, and there was no way Bitty was going to rob himself of a chance to use it. It was _his_ key. It gave him a thrill every time he saw it to know that Jack liked having him in his home so much that he wanted him to be able to come and go as he pleased.

“Ha!” He managed to flip the lock open and get his key back out again without dropping the boxes that threatened to tumble to the floor, and he carefully fist-pumped in triumph.

The inside of Jack’s apartment was quiet but inviting, warmly lit and smelling faintly of Jack’s dish soap, shampoo, and coffee. It reminded Bitty of what it had felt like stepping into Jack’s room at the Haus, which even with Shitty sometimes sprawled naked on the bed had always been an oasis within the greater chaos of odd gym socks, forgotten, half-full solo cups, and Sunday afternoon video game tournaments. Jack’s room had been different, somehow: more serious, more relaxing.

“Jack?” Bitty found himself smiling as he checked the door closed with his hip. He loved the Haus, but it just felt right to step into the apartment, especially now that Jack had settled in enough that there were plenty of his personal touches in the polished space, including his own photographs and Lardo’s art on the walls and the ever-growing collection of Bitty’s sticky notes on the fridge.

Like his key in the lock, it all just fit. It felt so _right_ to be there.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called a bit louder, laughing at the trite phrase and the image of a picture perfect 1950s nuclear family it called up in his mind.

In a way, the apartment actually did feel like coming home for Bitty, somewhere he easily belonged, although he knew it wasn’t _his_ home, wasn’t even his kitchen despite the fancy mixer Jack had bought just for him. It was Jack’s space with plenty of room for Bitty, like the part of the closet Jack reserved for Bitty’s clothes and the drawer in the bathroom vanity that held Bitty’s favorite brands of toothpaste and floss. It was a wonderful statement of inclusion but, of course, not co-ownership. And that was okay. Bitty could still love being there.

And yet, he realized, the smile freezing on his face for a moment, if home was the place he could be himself, then Jack’s apartment was even more home for Bitty than his parents’ house in Madison.

He could be fully himself at Jack’s, open about everything. When he stepped through the doorway, he didn’t have to hide his boyfriend from his friends (or passersby) or his sexuaity from his parents. It was the only place in the entire world he really could relax, be unguarded, be honest.

It was a disconcerting thought, one that made Bitty feel like he was standing on the edge of some precipice with no way back to where he’d come from, back to being that boy Eric making strawberry jam with his mother in Madison early on a July morning before the day got too hot to linger over the stove. Those had been some of his favorite times growing up, just his mama and him cooking together and chatting the day away. It took his breath away to know he’d never be his truest self in that kitchen again.

Not to mention that for all that he knew Jack loved him, Bitty knew he couldn’t assume anything permanent about their relationship, either, or his place in _this_ apartment. He was just... dangling, almost without a home at all, knowing that the Haus was only temporarily his, and graduation would come, and this place was Jack’s alone -

Bitty let the idea flit through his mind and out the other side like a rock skipping on a pond, leaving only a few little ripples of concern.

“Sweetpea, are you here?” he called out into the quiet apartment.

No need to go down that route of worry about the future, he told himself. No need in the slightest to let himself be foolish like that. He should be grateful and enjoy what he had right that very minute.

Including - he was glad to see - his lovely, handsome boyfriend walking toward him with a smile on his face and his arms outstretched.

“Bits,” Jack said warmly, taking the boxes from him. “What’s all this?”

“You tell me, Mr. Zimmermann; they’re yours.” Bitty set his bag on the ground and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. “They were just being delivered to the desk downstairs when I got here, and I offered to bring them up with me.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jack said. He turned from putting the boxes on the counter and walked straight into Bitty’s arms, gathering him up tightly, the way he did so often but always, _always_ when Bitty first arrived. It was like he was pulling Bitty inside him, breathing him in.

Bitty smiled up at him, happily sliding into his embrace. This was so much better than worrying about the future. “I know,” he replied. He ran his hands up Jack’s strong, solid back and felt a shiver rush from his scalp down to his toes. Lord, he was attractive, and perfect, and _Jack_ , and that sense of being where he most wanted to be got even stronger. “But I was coming up. Besides, it let me fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a mailman.”

Jack chuckled against Bitty’s mouth as they kissed, slow and soft. Bitty’s heart fluttered with pleasure, because this was so good, and he loved Jack so much, and after a long week of classes and practice he was so happy not to have to miss him anymore, and -

“A mailman, eh?” Jack said, confusing Bitty for a moment before he pulled himself out of his daze and caught the thread of their conversation again.

“Well,” Bitty said with a laugh, “I was four. And I thought they got tips like a waiter.” It was an embarrassing memory, but it was so easy to confess his silly thoughts to Jack, because he knew any chirping would be with love.

And besides, he knew just how to chirp Jack right back.

“Then I guess I’d better give you one.” Grinning, Jack dipped his head and kissed him again, this time more thoroughly and deeply, and by the time he pulled back Bitty felt flushed, his skin too tight for all of the need he had rising up to the surface.

“If that’s how you treat all your delivery people,” Bitty said as he sank back weakly against the door, his pulse pounding in his throat, “I hereby forbid you from ordering anything else off Amazon.”

Jack trailed his fingers down Bitty’s arm. “Then how am I supposed to get new sneakers?”

“Honey, there are these thing called malls,” Bitty reminded him. “You can see one from the highway. I know you’re a famous professional hockey player now, but surely you haven’t forgotten - ” He stopped as Jack’s words sank in and an entirely different kind of excitement prickled up his skin. He pushed away from the door. “Wait, you got new running shoes?”

“Yeah. One of the seams started coming apart on my old ones.”

Bitty turned toward the boxes with a burst of the same kind of bright, giddy anticipation he could remember feeling as a little boy on Christmas morning. There was little he could want to find more in those boxes - apart from his Great-Grandma Bittle’s secret pecan bar recipe, which had been passed down through his Great-Aunt Julia’s line instead of his own, and no amount of pleading could get his Aunt June to share it for fear of Great-Grandma Bittle’s ghostly retribution - than something to replace Jack’s ugly yellow sneakers.

And they _were_ ugly. So ugly. Seriously, painfully ugly.

Bitty loved him to utter distraction, but he was more than aware of Jack’s flaws, including and especially his preference for hideous footwear.

It wasn’t that Bitty, left to his own devices, would have secretly thrown away those eyesores... probably... but if Jack was finally going to wear some running shoes that blended in with the rest of his attractive self, well, Bitty was a thousand percent on board.

“Let’s see what you picked, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said and scooted around Jack to go grab a pair of scissors from the kitchen.

Jack’s eyebrows were drawn together in mild confusion when Bitty returned, but he accepted the scissors without complaint and used them to open one of the boxes.

Bitty waited in rapt anticipation, his hands clasped against his chest. Would they be Falconers’ blue? Red for his love of Samwell? A more classic black or white?

Jack pulled apart the cardboard flaps and lifted a shoebox out of the packing material. There was another identical box still inside.

The tiny, brightly colored picture on the end of both boxes looked all too familiar.

“No - “ Bitty started in shock, his hands flying up to cover his mouth.

“Just like the old ones,” Jack announced proudly, flipping open the shoebox lid to reveal a bright yellow pair of sneakers identical to the ones he usually wore.

“I can see that,” Bitty managed to say.

“I got two, in case my second pair wears out, too.”

Bitty just stared at him for a second, his vision overwhelmed by the neon yellow in Jack’s hands. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to believe them. But the shoes were the same, yellow and hideous. Of _course_ they were.

With a strangled laugh - because his fondness for Jack was so much bigger than the torture of the shoes - he shook his head and said, “Bless your heart, Jack Zimmermann.”

“Bless my heart? Did I do something wrong?”

Bitty shook his head again. “No, of course not.”

“It just makes sense to get two,” Jack said.

“I know, but... Lord, honey, you know they do make other shoes. Other colors. Other styles.”

Jack blinked at him and said, “Why would I want a different style when I like the one I have?”

Bitty had to laugh again. “You know that old saying: variety is the spice of life?”

“You told me the spice of life was salt,” Jack replied. “It brings out all the other flavors.” He dropped the shoebox back onto the mailing box.

Bitty smiled at the teasing gleam in his eyes. “Very funny, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said with a playful swat at his chest. “Although I’m glad to know you’ve been listening to my baking advice.”

“I listen to all your advice.”

Bitty made an unconvinced noise, because the _shoes_ , two _pairs of them_ , honestly, this clueless boy, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to complain any further. Jack’s horrible taste in footwear, as ghastly as it was, was outweighed by how wonderful the rest of him was. Or it would be, if he could just stop seeing the yellow glow burned into his eyelids every time he shut them.

“Then I _strongly_ advise you to kiss me,” Bitty told him, just so he could have a reminder of some of those good things and get the neon of those shoes out of his mind.

“Strongly, eh, Bittle?”

Bitty nodded. “Definitely. As soon as humanly possible, in fact.”

“I’ll get right on that.” Jack gathered him close again, slipping his hands around Bitty’s waist and gently tugging him in against him. Jack was in his stocking feet and Bitty still in shoes, and Bitty took advantage of the tiny bit more height he had than usual to lean up without waiting and kiss him again. Jack let him, like he always did, just giving Bitty everything he wanted - including all of Jack’s incredible focus, so much of it that it was almost overwhelming - and sinking into kiss after kiss after kiss until their mouths were both red and wet and they were both breathless and trembling.

“Goodness, I’ve missed you,” Bitty whispered against Jack’s chest, closing his eyes tight against the emotions flooding through him: love, desire, the ache of the memory of being apart, the ridiculous surge of affection at Jack being so _Jack_ about his choice of footwear.

“I missed you, too, bud,” Jack replied, a soft murmur into his hair. His hands were splayed across Bitty’s waist, holding him snug against him.

“I was thinking about cooking something here tonight. Staying in.” Bitty sighed with contentment at the thought of being able to be wrapped up in him all night long. “We can watch one of your shows, after. I promise I’ll try not to yawn too much.”

Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head. “I’m all for staying in for dinner. But watching TV wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

A prickle of hot anticipation danced up Bitty’s neck. Dinner could absolutely wait if something even better was on offer. It had been too long since they’d been together in person without other people around. Jack visiting him at the Haus was wonderful, but between the sin bin and thin walls it could be... limiting. “Oh?” He chewed on his lower lip, his mind spinning with the idea of touching Jack and his body reacting in anticipation.

“I was thinking a sunset run,” Jack replied, dry as a desert. “Just five or six miles.”

Bitty pulled away to look at him, narrowing his eyes at the obvious chirp. He crossed his arms over his chest. “ _Were_ you. A run. We’re all alone, and you want to go for a run.”

“Yeah. With you, of course. Not alone.”

“I see.”

Jack grinned, all innocence apart from the teasing sparkle in his beautiful eyes. “I’ve got to break in my new shoes.”

“Your new _old_ shoes. Lord, Jack,” Bitty said, poking him in the chest. “I still can’t believe they’re exactly the same. Two more pairs! Only you.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you what’s in the box I didn’t open, then,” Jack said.

“Well, now you have to!”

Jack looked up at the ceiling, as if for strength, and admitted, “I ordered two more red flannel shirts, because mine has ‘mysteriously’ disappeared.”

“You know full well where it is, Mr. Zimmermann. And you insisted you liked it on me,” Bitty said. “You’ve _shown_ me you liked it on me.” He flushed a little at the memories but didn’t look away.

“I do,” Jack replied. “But I liked wearing it, too, so I bought more.” He said it so simply, like it made perfect sense to have multiple identical shirts the way he had more than one jersey, only casual clothes weren’t a uniform.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bitty laughed again, filled to the brim with enough fondness that the lingering frustration over the shoes was just a little echo at the edges of his mind.

“Sorry. I know that’s kind of boring.”

There was a fragility to the way Jack said it, as though he felt the trait was a deep, personal flaw instead of something Bitty could secretly file away on his mental chart of things that made Jack Zimmermann the wonderful person he was.

“Boring? Please.” Bitty patted Jack’s arm and said, “Honey, I’ve known _all_ about your love of routines since I was a mere frog. It’s not boring. It’s just something to chirp you about.”

Jack smiled a little down at his hands, then grew more serious as he looked at Bitty again. “When I find what I like, Bits, I don’t usually change my mind.”

“I’ve noticed, Mr. Zimmermann. Believe me, I’ve noticed. I’m lucky you’re willing to try out different flavors of jam to see which brings you the best games.”

Jack just kept looking at him, warm and unguarded. “I’m the lucky one here.”

Bitty’s own smile faded as he took in the deep truth in Jack’s eyes and let it slowly sink in.

That was just how Jack was. He liked what he liked, and it stuck. It was true of shoes, of his love of hockey, of his passion for reading countless history books about the same exact decade or battle. Even Jack’s favorite pie, for all that he loved trying Bitty’s wide range of recipes, had been cemented early on and hadn’t changed.

And, given the way Jack was looking at _him_ , well... Bitty’s heart started to race again, and a little voice instead his head said, _Oh._

Oh.

That could be about him, too.

A thrill ran up Bitty’s spine, and he wished he could hold onto that look in Jack’s eyes forever. He wished he could know Jack would always feel that way about him. He wished he could just _have_ this, grab on, and know he’d never have to let go.

But he couldn’t, no. All he could do was enjoy what he had while he had it, and right now he had the attention of this wonderful, talented, passionate boy who had so many fine qualities if one overlooked his footwear.

He definitely should enjoy it.

So he kicked off his own shoes and made sure his bag was out of the way. Then he drawled, “Why, I can’t believe you’ve kept me standing around at the front door for this long, showing off your fancy footwear instead of going somewhere comfortable. What an impolite way to treat a guest.” But the words came out as sweet as his favorite candied yams, and he ran his hand up Jack’s hard chest and leaned in for another kiss.

This one was immediately stronger, more forceful and full of desire, and it wasn’t long before Jack had lifted Bitty up off his feet and started carrying him toward the bedroom.

“Let me show you to your room,” Jack said. “The bed’s very comfortable. And we’ll make sure there are no shoes or clothes around to bother you, eh?” He tugged Bitty’s shirt free from his pants and slid his hand up Bitty’s bare back underneath without even a tiny wobble of his strong, secure hold. It made Bitty’s head spin. “Wouldn’t want to be rude to my _guest_.”

Bitty grinned against Jack’s mouth, his arms wrapped around Jack’s broad shoulders, and let him take him wherever he wanted to go. After all, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. There was nowhere else he was happier or more himself.

“I do believe you have the makings of an excellent host,” Bitty breathed, and Jack smiled back, his eyes so intensely content that Bitty’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.

“That’s high praise from you, Bits,” Jack said.

Bitty ghosted his mouth against Jack’s, eager to kiss him again, eager to do far more. “I bet you’ll be able to earn a lot more praise than that.”

Bitty couldn’t let himself forget that Jack’s life would have a lot of changes in the next few years as he settled into his very serious career and his very adult life, and he couldn’t forget that nothing was promised to him as his boyfriend, nothing at all.

Still, he thought as he flopped back on Jack’s bed and watched Jack lean over him with a dark, lovely intent in his eyes, maybe it wasn’t _totally_ crazy to dream that this apartment - or at least Jack, himself - could officially be home for Bitty someday.

Jack liked what he liked, after all. And Bitty had absolutely no interest in doing anything to talk him out of it.


End file.
